


Cracks

by InjaMorgan



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Before the quest, Canon Compliant, Gen, headcanon dump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-25
Updated: 2014-11-25
Packaged: 2018-02-27 01:00:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,399
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2672987
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InjaMorgan/pseuds/InjaMorgan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Before the quest: Thorin returns with an idea and big dreams, passing them on to his nephews. A mother objects, but loses in the end.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Part 1

**Author's Note:**

> The description of the part of the Ered Luin where Fíli and Kíli grow up is inspired by the Czech Switzerland, a very nice mountain region for hikers and "adventurers"; my siblings had a shack similar to the one that Fíli and Kíli built
> 
> This ficlet grew far larger than I expected, and I hope you'll enjoy it, despite all the feels.

It had been dark for a few hours already, only the stars and a crescent moon illuminating the thick woods, but the night was still very warm, although Durin's Day was now a fortnight ago. Winter would be coming late this year, or would be even harsher than the years before, Fíli guessed, as his feet rustled over dry leaves and twigs. The lantern in his hand drew a sharp circle of light around him as he walked on the narrow mountain trail, leading him higher and higher, up some steps once in a while, but mostly it wound it's way up the slope in gentle curves, once in a while taking harsher bends to evade larger boulders that had broken from the massif that was towering over the wood.

The massif itself was their source of wealth. Under it, the dwarves had found a handful of smaller iron deposits, and an even smaller vein of silver ore. It was not much, but it had given the dwarves in their village enough work to last them the last ninety years, and probably would last for another fifty. But it wasn't enough, at least not for their uncle.

Fíli sighed, adjusting his cloak and changing the hand that was holding the lantern. He looked around, trying to find the right tree that would show him the last part of his way – in the dark, everything looked different, but he'd walked up here since he'd been old enough to hold his first knife.

He finally found the old oak, split into two parts by a lightening strike about half a century ago, and turned to his right, up an even smaller path that meandered between firs and pines first, then up some boulders where tireless hands had carved stairs into the stone. Then a wall of stone rose before him abruptly, but in the middle of it was a sharp cut like a giant had thrust a knife into the hard rock. It was the entrance to a slender ravine, broad enough that a grown dwarf could walk through it comfortably, although it got smaller in the back. It was no entrance into the mountain made by dwarven or human hands, but a natural gorge that occurred when the soft sandstone weathered, sometimes creating impressive labyrinths and caves.

Him and Kíli had found it when they had been playing as boys in the woods, young and carefree and unconcerned of the future that was waiting for them. They had explored the “cavern” thoroughly, marvelling at some prints a bear had left there – and then discovered that at one wall of the ravine, the stone was cracked in such a way that one could climb up easily. Kíli, the reckless idiot, had climbed up first, and was the first to see the best hiding place in the whole of Arda.

About ten feet above the ground, he'd found another, broader crack in the rock, which was again covered by a big boulder that was stuck between the massive stone walls, creating a tunnel of rock that was just high enough for an adult dwarf to stand, and a dwarfling to jump around excitedly at their discovery. Fíli still remembered how they had sworn on anything that mattered to them back then (which were mostly their favourite toys, and their shared love for apple pie) that they'd keep it a secret; their secret place to hide when they didn't want to attend their lessons, or train with Mister Dwalin, or when Mother had fought with Uncle Thorin again.

Which was also the reason why Fíli was making his way up here in the dark, even though it must have been close to midnight when he finally reached the right part of the wall inside the ravine, where now a properly chiselled staircase led up the rock, making his ascend a bit easier than when he was a dwarfling. He had dimmed the lantern when he stepped into the ravine so he might approach without getting noticed, but was not surprised when he reached the upper landing and saw an arrow pointing at his face.

“Could have killed you easily from up here.”

“We established that thirty years ago, little brother.” Fili smiled at the other dwarf standing in front of him. “May I pass?”

Kíli breathed in and out, and only then lowered his bow, although the stubborn look on his face didn't vanish.

“I told you I wanted to be alone.”

“And I knew that mother would worry when you simply vanished, which I already told you as you climbed out of the window,” Fíli replied, but Kíli had already turned around and walked towards the door of their childhood hideaway.

Much had changed since they'd discovered this place; after a while, the simple logs they'd dragged up here hadn't been enough anymore, and the cold winter wind was sometimes so loud they couldn't hear each other's words. Fíli had the idea to build something around the small space whose roof was provided by the big rock and even drew some childish sketches before they realised that they weren't allowed to take any tools from Uncle Thorin's workbench. Kíli suggested they'd just borrow them for a day or two – of course without telling their uncle.

In the end, they hadn't been as sneaky as they'd wanted to be. Thorin dragged them out of his little workroom, pulling on their ears until they finally told him why they needed his hammer, saw, and a handful of nails. And of course they had caved in, because nothing hurt more than Thorin digging his fingernails into ones earlobes.

However, after hearing their little story, told by both brothers while groaning from pain, Thorin hadn't reacted like they'd expected. Instead of yelling at them about being reckless and dumb, he looked at them for a good long time and then sighed, letting go of their ears.

“Don't tell your mother, but … before you two little rascals injure yourself, I'd rather help you building this little shed of yours.”

Fíli and Kíli had looked at each other, not believing their luck. Those words then begun a time that felt like magic to them, as Thorin had never before given them so much of his undivided attention. Not like that he was a bad uncle, but often Thorin had to go away for business, or kingly stuff, so even though they loved him very much, the two dwarflings didn't know much about their relative.

In the next days, they however learnt that Thorin was quite adapt at planning their small hut, after he'd visited the actual place, of course. He had been the one to suggest they'd carve out the steps on the wall of the ravine, and in the end did most of the work on the wood for the shed all by himself, as Fíli and Kíli had to go to their lessons during the day, and in the evening Dís would have become suspicious if they'd stayed away for too long. It was actually a small miracle that they managed to keep the making of the wooden panels for the hut a secret, as Kíli seemed often rather close to just tell her everything (he was terrible at keeping secrets), but in the end, Thorin had finished all parts in a fortnight. It had been spring by then, the ground beneath the trees covered in early flowering plants, and the path up the ravine finally free from ice and snow. It felt like a blessing of Mahal that Dís had gotten a letter from an old friend just then, inviting her to a wedding in a village on the other side of the mountains, and Thorin had faked being ill so he didn't have to attend, and, well, Dís looked at her two soot-covered sons and decided to go there alone.

Two seconds after the cart that would bring Dís to the other village had vanished from view, Thorin and his nephews had already packed the prepared wooden slats, a heavy hammer that Kíli was barely able to lift alone, and a sack full of nails. Thorin also took with him a large stone drill that he would use to anchor the wooden construct in the rock itself. And as he didn't want to loose any of their precious time, he had also brought up some light food, mostly cram and jerky, three waterskins and even a bedroll so the dwarflings could take a little nap around noon – it might have made them feel like they were babes, but Thorin knew how exhausting such hard work could be.

They still needed almost all of the three days that Dís was gone to built the hut, but when they finally stood before the finished masterpiece in smooth wood and long iron nails, they were very proud – and very tired.

Only shortly before sunset, they had returned to their little house down in the valley, and fell into Thorin's big bed on top of each other, asleep as soon as their heads hit the pillow. Dís must have found them like that soon after, as Fíli remembered being carried to their own bed in his and Kíli's chamber, and then waking up with his little brother curled around him like every morning.

Later they both often wondered if their mother might know about their hideaway in the mountains, but she never showed any sign of curiousness as to where they vanished after they'd had their lessons and done their chores in the house. As much as there was to do in the work rooms and the barn, Dís always tried to give her sons a proper childhood; a childhood that was appropriate for princes, even if they grew up on a farm and would have to take up mercenary's work instead of being the captains of the guard once they were proficient with their weapons.

However, Dís did look at them suspiciously when some of their old plates vanished – they were simple unpainted earthenware, bought before they had come into a bit of money through trade and the ore from their mines, but nevertheless she instantly noticed the empty spot in her cupboards. They came up with a story of shattering them while playing, but in truth the brothers had carried them up to their shack so they didn't have to eat the jerky and cram they had stored there from the bare ground. Dís was also quite puzzled when an old bed sheet full of holes that she had actually wanted to cut up to make a new shift for the still growing Kíli vanished over night. The two dwarflings were glad though, as they now had a little bed made of straw and the patched bed sheet in their shack, even though Fíli had aching fingers for two days after that and would never roll his eyes again when his mother complained about mending their torn clothes.

In the following years, Fíli and Kíli made their little shack more and more homely, even sealing the cracks and fissures between the wooden panels with clay and straw so they could heat it with a tiny little stove that Fíli made in his second year as a smith apprentice. They timbered furniture, built a sturdy and lockable door and a petite window into the wooden walls, and ended up with a tiny room that felt just as cosy as their actual home.

Fíli remembered all of this as he now ducked his head to avoid the low lintel and entered the small shack behind his brother. The merrily crackling fire in the stove and a few candles lightened the room, and a lot of Kíli's things were lying around, but beside a bit of dust here and there, everything still looked just like when they had built them as dwarflings.

He hadn't been up here in years, maybe since he'd come of age, but it didn't look like Kíli could say the same. In all the clutter that was strewn about, he could spot a pile of warm clothes, Kíli's hunting knives and bow, a big sack full with nonperishable foods and two filled waterskins.

“How long have you planned this?”

“I don't know what you mean,” Kíli said gruffly while kneeling before the stove, putting more wood on the fire. “I just needed some peace and quiet; Mam yelling so much at uncle was grating on my nerves.”

And although Kíli had turned his back to him, Fíli knew that his brother was lying.

“That's just half of the truth, and you know it.” Fíli put the lantern on the small table next to a bag of wrinkly winter apples, and sat down on the wonky stool next to it, staring at his brother's hunched shoulders.

“And even if I'd planned something,” Kíli grumbled, finally closing the stove door and turning around. “It's not like I can do a single thing without anyone telling me I shouldn't do it!” He let himself drop down on the other stool, glowering at his older brother.

Fíli sighed.

“If this is about uncle's quest–”

“Of course it's about uncle's quest!” Kíli's fist rocked the unvarnished wood of the table between them. “And I don't understand how mother can object to us joining it!”

It shouldn't have surprised Fíli that it came down to that, but he still frowned. Of the two of them, Kíli had always been the more adventurous; he climbed up the highest trees, swam through the deepest rivers and hunted boars and bears even though his uncle had forbidden him to do so. All his life, their mother had worried about her reckless youngest, and told Fíli again and again to keep an eye on Kíli, but this quest wasn't just a simple hunt in the woods.

Thorin wanted them to set out to cross half of Middle-earth and fight a dragon. And even if he had grown up on stories about Erebor just as much as Kíli had, he didn't know if he was willing to risk his life for such a folly.

“Kíli, please.” Fíli reached for his brother's wrist, but Kíli pulled his hand away and crossed his arms in front of his chest, looking more and more like a dwarfling close to having a tantrum. Yet Fíli still tried to reason with him. “You know that we're the last bit of family mother has left, just imagine if we don't–”

“But we will!” Kíli interjected, his whole face brightening at the thought. “We will succeed, I know it! And then we are going to rebuild Erebor, making it great again, just like in uncle's stories!”

Shaking his head, Fíli glanced down at his hands, the fingers interlaced tightly. It was a nice vision; their mother dressed in all her finery and the most splendid jewellery, standing next to their uncle, finally sitting on a throne worthy of being called such.

“But at what cost?” He looked up, trying once again to reason, with the same argument their mother had uttered to convince Thorin not to take her sons with him, but in his heart he felt that his own attitude had already changed. It was that light in his brother's eyes, his excitement. The last time he'd seen that, Kíli had just returned from escorting some merchants to the south, telling him all about a huge fire moon he'd seen on the way to Dunland.

He had missed this side of his brother, as it had become rarer and rarer the older they had gotten, the responsibilities of being prince weighing him down like it was lead on his shoulders.

“Fee,” Kíli said, leaning forwards and grasping his brother's hands in his. “If I really wanted, I could have left right after climbing out of our window. I don't need mother's approval; neither do you. We are grown dwarves!” He grinned; that big, toothy grin of his, though it instantly fell away when he spoke again. “But I couldn't go away without you. We two have to stick together!”

Fíli stared into his brother's eyes, and felt a small smile crawling onto his lips, remembering all the pranks they had played, all the mischief they had done. Fíli-and-Kíli, they were an entity, a force of nature.

Of course they could kill a dragon, as long as they had each other.

He leaned forwards too, so his forehead touched Kíli's.

“You're right, little brother.”


	2. Part 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *hands out tissues*

Just like anticipated, Dís cried when they told her about their decision, but only after yelling at Thorin, and then shouted at them. Then she wept again, clinging to her sons like they would leave the next day.

But it actually took them the whole winter to prepare for their journey, taking up work as escorts and tinkers once again to scrape up enough money. Thorin, together with their old mentor Balin, left as soon as the snow melt set in, to meet up with other dwarven Lords in the northern part of Ered Luin, while Fíli and Kíli, and most of the rest of the company, waited until spring equinox to set out. And even though Dís had more than three months to prepare herself for the goodbye, she was once again close to tears when she watched Fíli pack his things on the morrow of their departure.

“Wait!” she suddenly exclaimed as he was about to cram his old pipe and tobacco pouch into his already overstuffed bag. Dís vanished into her chamber, and curious as Fíli was, he followed her until he stood in the doorway to the small room his mother called her own, and watched her digging around in the chest at the foot of her bed. Whatever she was searching for, it seemed to be hidden well, but in the end she only needed to remove one of her old dresses from the chest to cheer in triumph, a small box in her hands.

“I already gave Kíli his present yesterday,” she explained as she gave him the box, and Fíli saw the tears returning to her eyes. “But I'm sure you have a better use for something practical like this.”

Fíli stared at the finely cut lid; the runes of protection and beauty, the sigil of the house of Durin. He opened the casket carefully, and the sight took his breath away.

It was a pipe; not a new one, but one that he'd seen the last time as a young boy. His fingers touched the mouthpiece, the lavishly carved shank, the soot that had accumulated at the rim of the chamber.

“Mam, you can't give me Dad's–”

“I very well can, my beloved son,” she said, laying a hand on his cheek and making him look up into her eyes. “And I know he would have wanted you to have it.”

Fíli felt the tears in his eyes, and didn't resist when Dís's other hand came to cup his face, and leaned his forehead against his mother's.

“Thank you, Mam.”

“Swear it, Fíli,” Dís said, her voice breathy from the tears streaming down her cheeks. “Swear you'll take no risks, and come back to me.”

“I swear on father's pipe,” he replied, and hugged his mother as tight as he could.

* * *

_TO DÍS_  
 _DAUGHTER OF FRÍS AND THRAIN, SON OF THROR_  
 _PRINCESS UNDER THE MOUNTAIN_

_Mam,_

_I'm sorry. I made Balin promise he would send this letter in only one case, and if you are reading these words, then I broke my oath._

_I don't know what else to write. Mam, please don't cry. I'm sure we fought bravely, and I protected Kíli until my last breath. You always told me to take care of him._

_Erebor is once again ours, but you were right: The price was far too high._

_In never ending love, and hope of seeing you once again in the Halls of Mahal,_

_Your son Fíli_

He folded the piece of paper carefully and put it on his bedroll. On top of it, he placed his pipe. It had fallen out of his pocket only yesterday, and now a fine crack run right through the middle of the chamber and shank, making it unusable.

He was sure it was an evil omen, but he would follow his brother anywhere.

Even if it was into certain death.

_fin_


End file.
